


They Want You to Sink - Christmas Special!

by Its_Bee_Winchester



Series: They Want You to Sink [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Human AU, M/M, because I love fluff and Mettaton deserves a good christmas he is a good bean, christmas special fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5527754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_Bee_Winchester/pseuds/Its_Bee_Winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A three chapter set the follows almost the entirety of Mettaton and Papyrus' christmas day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mettaton woke up on Christmas morning to Papyrus, already dressed, violently shaking him. He groaned loudly, pulling the covers just low enough to stare balefully at his excited puppy of a boyfriend.

“Paps, darling, it’s Christmas, lemme sleep,” Mettaton mumbled, his words muffled by the comforter pulled up over his nose. “It’s freezing, why are you even awake?”

“It’s Christmas!” Papyrus exclaimed, his tone the exact opposite to Mettaton’s own. He bounced on his knees, rocking the Mettaton’s blankety cocoon. His black hair, spread out in a messy halo around his head, stood out in stark contrast against the white pillowcase.

“Yeah. Which means we, two adults with no children, should be sleeping in.” Mettaton wasn’t giving up his cocoon without a fight. 

“No, no, no, it means we have to have a snowball fight. It’s tradition. Sans and Toriel and Frisk are downstairs already, there’s pie in the oven, everyone is waiting for you!”

“What - wait, I thought we weren’t gonna see them until the afternoon?” Mettaton sat up quickly, coming eye-to-eye with Papyrus. 

“Me and Sans always have a snowball fight before breakfast and presents on Christmas,” Papyrus explained. “Lately, we’ve been inviting Toriel and Frisk too, since Sans started dating Toriel. Sans showed up this morning, and - well, you didn’t expect me to say no, did you?”

 

“Mph, what time is it?” Mettaton replied, flopping back down and rolling over to check his phone. “It’s only - oh, nine, yeah, I guess I can’t be mad, it’s not that early.”

“They actually showed up at seven, but I said we should wait for you,” Papyrus confessed. Mettaton finally pushed the covers off, shivering as the air hit his bare legs. He wrapped his arms around his belly, wishing he’d worn cozier pajamas. 

“Well, thank you, darling,” Mettaton said, patting Papyrus’ down jacketed chest before kneeling to rummage through a basket of unfolded laundry. “You tell them I’ll be right down, okay? I just have to make myself presentable.”

“Okay,” Papyrus headed for the door, before turning around again. “Hey, um, could I have a kiss?”

Mettaton loved that Papyrus still nervously asked for affection. They’d been together for months, and yet Papyrus had never lost his initial courtesy, and always made sure to get Mettaton’s explicit permission even for the smallest gesture. It was an unbelievably pleasant change from the handsy high school boys he’d dated before. Mettaton touched his lips with his fingers lightly before replying. 

“I mean, you can, but I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. I don’t know if you want to.”

“Ah,” Papyrus nodded, taking another step backwards toward the door. “Yeah. That makes sense. Well, before we go outside, then. Because as soon as we’re outside we’re enemies and I’m taking you down.”

“Well, okay then,” Mettaton said, giggling a little at Papyrus’ serious tone. 

“Don’t laugh, it’s serious! Enemies!” Papyrus repeated, wiggling his fingers in front of his face. He made an I’m watching you gesture before ducking out the door. Mettaton listened to his heavy boots clunking down the stairs as he struggled into his own winter clothes, knowing Toriel would give him a hard time if he wasn’t properly bundled up. He tiptoed out of Papyrus’ room, across the balcony, and almost to the door of his own room, in which he never slept anymore, but still kept most of his things, before he was intercepted. 

“Hey, mornin’ sleeping beauty,” Sans called from the living room, and Mettaton silently cursed the house for being so visibly laid out. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to brush his hair. 

“Good morning, Sans, can you just give me a minute, I -”

“We’ve already given you two hours, Mettaton. Look how sad and impatient Frisk is.” Sans gestured at Frisk, who pouted on command. Mettaton rolled his eyes. 

“At least let me fix my hair. I’ll be down in just a second, I swear!” Mettaton didn’t wait for an answer, pushing into the bathroom and slamming the door shut. 

“You don’t want to get in the way of his beauty regime,” Papyrus said knowingly, loud enough that Mettaton could hear through the door. 

Mettaton made a face at himself in the mirror, deciding that simply brushing and pinning his hair back out of his face would have to do. It wasn’t like he had a choice, since he’d shut himself in the wrong room. He quickly washed his face, brushed his teeth, and hurried downstairs to meet his family. 

“Alright, let’s get this war started,” He said as he reached the living room, standing with his hands on his hips in front of everyone. Frisk cheered, a sound that was more raspy breath than anything else, and pumped their fists in the air. Mettaton marched over to Papyrus where he was perched on the arm of the couch, and jabbed a finger at his chest. “I am taking you down, loverboy.”

“Kiss first?” Papyrus asked hopefully. Mettaton obliged, standing on tiptoe to lightly peck Papyrus’ lips. Papyrus grinned widely, their faces still mere inches apart, and half whispered, “Okay, now you’re going down.”

“If you boys are ready, I’d like to go out and kick some a - butts,” Toriel said sweetly, interrupting their moment. Mettaton stuck his tongue out at her, but took the short distance to the door in three large strides, holding it open and taking a deep bow.

“After you, then,” he said, straightening up. Frisk snarled like a wolf pup as they trooped past Mettaton, and he considered for a moment how a simple little thing like a snowball fight could turn a family against itself, before his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a cold, wet slap of snow to the face. He yelped, rubbing his mitten against his cheek to dry it. 

“Looks like all that gentlemanly door holding really snowed down your reflexes!” Sans’ deep, hearty laugh rang through the chilly air, followed by the resounding clap of Toriel high fiving him. A second later, the smug grin was wiped off his face as a red and white blur of Papyrus crashed into him, the two falling into the snow with a dull thud. 

“I’m sorry, brother!” Papyrus shouted as he tackled Sans, pushing his elder brother face first into the snow. Mettaton practically cackled, before clapping a hand over his mouth, embarrassed at the sound. Papyrus grinned fiercely at him from on top of Sans, all teeth. “Don’t think just because I avenged you this time means we’ve got a truce or anything. You’re still going down.”

“Sure, honey, whatever you say,” Mettaton replied, his tone falsely sweet. He knelt to pick up a chunk of snow, and lobbed it at Frisk, who made a sound like a dying goose and toppled into Toriel in their attempt to dodge the icy projectile. Frisk was off of their mother in a flash, pausing for a moment to form a heart with their hands before charging at Mettaton. Mettaton made a face. He knew Frisk’s aim wasn’t the best, and he was definitely stronger, but that didn’t mean Frisk wasn’t determined. He took off away from Frisk, only to crash into Sans, who’d apparently managed to fight his way out from under his brother. 

And so it went on. Everyone had their own strategy, Toriel methodically making and tossing perfectly shaped snowballs from behind a bush, Sans preferring to simply dodge whatever anyone threw his way and only attack when someone made the mistake of staying still within his arms’ reach, and Frisk and Papyrus simply running in circles, throwing whatever handfuls of snow they could grab haphazardly. Their speed made dodging easy, as no one could ever quite be sure where to aim in order to hit them, but they rarely hit anyone else, either. Mettaton, for his part, didn’t really have a plan. He simply ricocheted between his family-turned-enemies, spinning away from one person’s attack only to run face first into someone else’s. His main strategy was simply chasing Papyrus, partially because he had a threat to keep, and partially because he’d never actually been in a snowball fight, and wasn’t sure what else to do. 

He tired quickly, especially with his lack of breakfast, but so did everyone else. Before long, everyone was pausing to strip off their Toriel-mandated layers, and Mettaton suspected Frisk was eating more snow than they were throwing. Mettaton couldn’t exactly blame them - the snow was looking more and more appetizing by the minute, but he could never get himself to clean, unstepped-on corner. Somehow, Sans seemed to be in all four of them at once, and Mettaton could never seem to avoid him long enough to get a mouthful. He gave up quickly, preferring his dogged Papyrus chase to willingly getting smacked in the face with snow. 

His chase did pay off, and Mettaton finally managed to tackle a panting Papyrus to the ground. Papyrus raised his hands in surrender, his face almost the same color as his overlarge red mittens. His hat had fallen off some time ago, and his hair clung to his forehead in damp, stringy waves. 

Smirking, Mettaton whispered “I win,” in Papyrus’ ear before bending his neck to kiss him gently, at the same time reaching around above Papyrus’ head and grabbing a fistful of snow. The shriek of shock and betrayal Papyrus emitted when Mettaton shoved his handful of icy slush down into his scarf was worth every second of unnecessary before-breakfast exercise.


	2. Chapter 2

“I still think you guys were unfairly biased against me,” Mettaton was saying, through a mouthful of Toriel’s Christmas pie. They’d all trooped back inside shortly after Mettaton had tackled Papyrus, their game cut short by Toriel glancing at her watch and yelping that breakfast was going to burn, and now they were sitting in a circle on the living room floor, because the couch wasn’t big enough and nobody felt like finding chairs. 

“Excuses!” Papyrus exclaimed, through a mouthful of pie. “This is delicious, by the way, Toriel, you’ve really outdone yourself.”

There was a general muttering of agreement. It really was a good pie. Mettaton wasn’t sure exactly what kind of pie it was, but it was caramelly and delicious and seemed to melt on his tongue when he ate it, and the candied nuts that formed the top crust weren’t half bad, either. 

“Mettaton, if it’s any condolence, we didn’t start out with any plan to team up against you,” Sans said, after the moment of Toriel-praising was over. Frisk nodded, their face a picture of innocence, before signing something, which Sans translated. “You just didn’t know what you were doing. It was kind of hard to resist.”

“It’s not my fault my family was boring,” Mettaton defended himself, but he didn’t entirely mean it. He didn’t mind being teamed up against - it was better than being ignored, like with his old family.

“Frisk, dear, why don’t you go get everyone’s presents?” Toriel said, before that conversation could go anywhere, and Mettaton forced the thoughts of his parents out of his mind, glad of the distraction. 

_Do I have to?_ Frisk signed, making a face. But they were already getting up and grabbing the huge paper gift bag by the door. 

“We brought our own gifts, too, so we could all open everything together,” Toriel explained. Frisk knelt and stacked packages in an untidy pile in the middle of the living room, sliding them across the floor to their respective owners. Papyrus and Mettaton had three gifts, between them, not including those they’d gotten each other. 

Frisk, of course, had the largest pile. It was just one of the perks of being the only actual kid at a holiday event. Mettaton hoped they’d like his gift, which was a very big sweatshirt in their favorite periwinkle blue, with the words _My Gender is Void_ across the front of it, with the _void_ part printed like a stamp on a document. Mettaton would wear it himself, if he wasn’t so certainly a boy. 

Turning his attention back to his own small gift pile, Mettaton tore it apart quickly and efficiently, finding a huge black sweater, knitted with a pattern of little pink stars, from Toriel, a necklace from Papyrus with _pretty boy_ stamped into a little heart shaped tag, and a whole kit of makeup, apparently from Santa, though the tag was in Papyrus’ handwriting.

After folding the torn wrappings neatly, Mettaton tugged the new sweater over his head, noticing how soft the wool was against his neck. He smiled a thank you at Toriel across the room, and then crawled up onto the couch, resting his head on Papyrus’ shoulder. He nuzzled into Papyrus’ neck, pressing soft kisses there as he watched him unwrap his gifts. 

Unlike Mettaton, Papyrus opened everything slowly, taking his time to carefully pull up the tape instead of tearing the paper, and spending a moment looking at each gift before moving on to the next. Mettaton was profoundly bored by this method. He tilted his head and moved his lips up Papyrus’ jaw, enjoying the warmth he could feel bloom in Papyrus’ cheeks. 

“Thank you for the necklace, by the way,” Mettaton said quietly, his lips still ghosting against Papyrus’ skin. Papyrus started, apparently not expecting Mettaton to talk, before twisting to look at him, a bright smile on his sweet, innocent face. 

“I just thought of you when I saw it, considering you’re a boy, and you’re - well, you’re very pretty.” Papyrus flushed, smiling sheepishly. “It just made sense. I’m glad you like it.” 

“You’re very pretty yourself, Pap,” Mettaton replied easily, leaning in and pecking Papyrus on the lips, chastely, the rather parental presence of Toriel and Sans not quite forgotten. 

“Thank you,” Papyrus said, nodding curtly, and his tone combined with that little nod was so serious that Mettaton burst out laughing. Papyrus looked at him in bemusement, his eyebrows drawing together a little.

“It’s just a funny way of responding to a compliment, is all,” Mettaton explained. He reached down and grabbed what was left of Papyrus’ pie, taking a large bite before putting it back, chewing thoughtfully. Then, “This really is amazing pie, Toriel. Would you be willing to teach me how to make it?”

“It’s an old family recipe, but - well, Frisk isn’t too interested in cooking, and…” Toriel trailed off for a moment, her eyes shining, before coughing slightly. “Anyways, I suppose you are practically family now, child, so I don’t see why not.”

“Thank you.” Mettaton wasn’t sure what that pause was about, but he didn’t ask. It seemed rude, especially on Christmas. 

“Why don’t you practice with what’s in that bag - yes, the one Papyrus is holding - first, though?” Toriel went on, pointing to it. Mettaton reached down and pulled out the tissue paper, and Papyrus lifted out two cookbooks, one new, and one rather stained looking. “That old one was one of mine, it has all kinds of fun tips in it. I know all the recipes by heart at this point, and Sans said you boys like cooking, so I thought I’d share.”

Mettaton found he couldn’t say anything, this time, because his throat had seized up. He just wasn’t used to a family this nice. He smiled, a little shakily, from behind Papyrus, blinking rapidly. But it didn’t matter. All that was in the past. Now, he had this family, which was warm and kind and loving, and did things like offer to help him learn to cook, and respect his identity. 

For the first time since Mettaton came out, it really was a merry Christmas.


	3. Chapter 3

Christmas was over. It was the first one Mettaton had actually enjoyed in quite a few years - in fact he was still basking in the novel idea that Christmas could be fun for participants over the age of ten - but he couldn’t help but be a little glad he was back to being alone with Papyrus at home. He was curled up on the couch, his head resting on Papyrus’ shoulder and one of Papyrus’ arms slung comfortingly over his chest, both boys happily lost in their own individual social media platforms. It was a peaceful end to an exciting day, Mettaton thought, and with the fireplace thing playing on the tv (at Papyrus’ insistence) Mettaton frankly couldn’t think of a more pleasant and soothing environment to be in. 

“I’ve still got one more gift for you, you know,” Mettaton said suddenly, looking up from his phone.

“Oh?” Papyrus replied after a moment, twisting to look at Mettaton. “You certainly like giving me surprise extra gifts, don’t you. It’s not like the last one, is it?”

“No.” Mettaton felt himself blush. Papyrus’ birthday ‘gift’ had been a bit of a disaster, if he had to be honest. He pushed Papyrus’ arm off his chest with a grunt, before getting up and half jogging over to the tree. He knelt, pulling something out of the lower branches, before coming back. “Frisk didn’t see it, and I didn’t correct them. It’s kind of personal, anyways.”

Papyrus hummed instead of answering, taking the rectangular package, wrapped in festive red and white paper, and looking at Mettaton expectantly until he sat back down. He tore at the paper, ripping it across one edge and slipping the gift out. 

“365 Bedtime Stories,” Papyrus read, turning the book over in his hands, the forgotten paper falling from his lap with a quiet hiss. “Mettaton…”

“Do you like it? I know you like when we read together before bed, and I saw this at the bookstore and I just thought of you immediately, but I think I still have the receipt, we can return it if you don’t -” Mettaton found himself babbling. He was seldom at a loss for words, but Papyrus hadn’t stopped having that effect on him, even months into their relationship. 

“Mettaton, I love it,” Papyrus said, cutting off Mettaton’s rambling and hugging the book to his chest. He lowered his voice, as if anyone else was around to hear them. Mettaton liked when he did that. “Don’t tell Sans, but you’re my favorite bedtime story-reader.”

“Really?”

“Would I lie to you?” Papyrus put the book in his lap and patted it in a satisfied manner. “You read like you do everything - very dramatically. It’s very good.”

“Yeah, well, it’s good acting practice,” Mettaton said, his cheeks pink in spite of his nonchalant tone. He was months into this relationship and he still felt flustered whenever Papyrus paid him a compliment. He would have felt embarrassed about it, but Papyrus seemed to be just as easily thrown off by Mettaton’s smooth talking, so he could reason that at least he wasn’t alone in acting like a dork. Still, it wasn’t what he was used to. “But thank you, I do try to make it interesting.”

“How could I ever be disinterested in something you’re doing?” Papyrus asked, his voice as genuine as ever.

“I’m really not as interesting as I pretend to be, love,” Mettaton replied, chuckling a little. “You should know that by now.”

“Well, I’m interested in you.”

Mettaton cocked an eyebrow suggestively. “You are, are you?”

“I - um, that didn’t come out exactly how I meant it to, but, yes?” Papyrus ran a hand through his hair, looking flustered at Mettaton’s flirty grin. “That too. You know even the great Papyrus gets words mixed up sometimes.”

“I know what you meant, darling. And I’d hope you meant it the other way, too, considering we’re, y’know, dating, and all.”

“Of course, of course.” 

Mettaton didn’t answer, just leaned in and pressed their lips together, curling his fingers in Papyrus’ hair for a moment before pulling away and just looking at him, drinking in his clear, honest eyes and those soft soft cheeks that hid perfect bone structure.

“I really like the book,” Papyrus said after a moment, breaking away and smiling at his gift. “Can we start tonight?”

“I thought we’d start at the beginning of the new year, but - yeah, why not? I wouldn’t mind starting early.”

“Can we start now?”

Mettaton raised one eyebrow, looking at Papyrus doubtfully. “Do you really want to go to bed at eight o’clock? You know we can’t get up after we read a bedtime story.”

“I don’t see how that’s a problem.” Papyrus waggled his eyebrows ridiculously and Mettaton giggled, feeling slightly shocked, as he always did on the rare occasions that Papyrus said anything suggestive. 

“Well, if that’s how you feel about it, let’s get this bedtime story started,” Mettaton said, the excitement in his voice only half joking. He leaned in and kissed Papyrus on the nose before standing up. “Come on, then, we’ve got a story to read.”

Laughing at Papyrus’ expression, Mettaton grabbed the book out of his boyfriend’s lap and pulled him upstairs, flopping onto the bed and looking expectantly at Papyrus until he laid down too. Mettaton scooted close and kissed him sweetly, before pushing himself up against the headboard. Papyrus, as well versed in this little ritual as Mettaton himself, rested his head on Mettaton’s chest, sighing contentedly when Mettaton nuzzled his hair.

“Okay,” Mettaton said, opening the book. “Are you ready?”

“Mm,” Papyrus answered, nodding against Mettaton’s chest and snuggling closer. 

“Okay, bedtime story number one. Once upon a time…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And theyre gonna fricking marathon the great british baking show after the bedtime story, what did you expect, ya filthy sinners. 
> 
> Ok I admit that's probably a lie but who cares.
> 
> Alright, fun things you can do for your lovely writer (me) this Christmas: Write what you like about this! Or any of my other work for that matter! Like phrases, imagery, characterization, etc. I am always a slut for more in depth comments, (though the incoherent screaming is also appreciated) and this holiday seems like the perfect time to ask for them.  
> Oh gosh I feel silly now forget it do it if you want but you don't have to or anything I don't know merry christmas *hides*

**Author's Note:**

> Well yall I have been looking forward to posting this for a while. I love this AU so much (I know, my ego surprises even myself sometimes) I just can't let go of it. I still have about a million ideas for it. Anyways, I hope you like this, and marry christmas, if you celebrate it. I assume you do if you're reading this, but you never know.


End file.
